


The Aftermath of an Impulsive Plan

by SharaMichaels



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: F/M, Fear, Fluff and Angst, Hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 12:54:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7440118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharaMichaels/pseuds/SharaMichaels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Filling in the gaps of Andrew Lloyd Webber's version of the story. This is a scene happening after Twisted Every Way and before the Don Juan Rehearsal. Two scared young adults learn how hard it is to constantly fear for someone else's life as much as for your own and that sometimes the only thing you can do is hug your lover and continue to push through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Aftermath of an Impulsive Plan

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. People like to bash Raoul's actions in Notes II/Twisted Every Way. I love Raoul way too much to stay silent on the matter. This piece is meant as a small reminder that we're talking here about two very young people who are going through an incredibly tough time, when they probably just want to be happy and together; cut them some slack.  
> 2\. I don't know what else to say; I love these cute children and they deserve lots of hugs. That's all. Enjoy.

Christine Daaé was mechanically brushing her hair in front of the mirror. It was a comforting gesture, this well-known move so characteristic to her. The hand stroked from the top of the head to the tips almost involuntarily, allowing her mind to wander, in the struggle to settle on a train of thoughts. The libretto was sitting in disorder on the small stool next to her wardrobe; she threw it there when she stormed inside and now she wouldn’t dare to turn in its direction. She let her gaze down for a split of a second and spotted a corner of the red ribbon; a cold shiver shoot down her spine. The libretto… she had to learn the libretto. There was no room for denial. If only Carlotta knew how much she would have loved to cease her the leading role… But such a thing was not possible. Were it an ordinary situation, no doubt that, as the fiancée of the opera patron, she could have easily skipped the part if she truly did not want to play it. Unfortunately, this was no ordinary situation. The role came with her name. Didn’t they all hear him? Did they all forget what happened the last time they dared not to obey his orders? She herself had to do the performance; there was no way they could have escaped the wrath of the angel of music otherwise. There are worse things than a shattered chandelier… Christine was starting to learn just how tough breathing was when her life was not the only one she feared for.

Three knocks on the door made her stop with her hand mid-air. She sighed, lazily stroked her hair one more time, then put the brush on the table and settled her voice:

“It’s open! You can come in.”

A visibly distressed Raoul popped his head inside and spoke in a frantic tone:

“Christine! What has happened? Are you all right? Has he-”

She threw him an accusatory glance and he stopped mid-sentence.

“Nothing has happened, Raoul. Not since we’ve last seen each other, at least. I just wanted to talk to you… alone. Don’t worry, we _are_ alone. I’m fairly sure he won’t dare to bother me now, when I need to prepare,” she added, seeing he hesitated in the door frame.

Christine motioned him to take a sit on the sofa and he obliged, in silence. She dabbed some powder on her cheeks and underneath her eyes, just a precaution to hide the fresh trails of tears from Raoul’s sensitive heart. When she settled next to him, he immediately started talking fervently:

“I was really concerned something might have happened when Meg told me you asked for me. I didn’t think you would want to see me anymore… so I assumed you would only send for me in case of a… an emergency. Christine, I am so sorry I dropped this on you, I don’t really know what to do! And everybody is looking at me, expecting me to fix the situation somehow… And you… I just want to keep you safe from him, but in the same time I want this to be over already, I want us to be done with him once and for all! I couldn’t think of a better plan…”

Christine sat quietly and listened to him. His voice went up, in sudden spurts of anger, then down again, in self-consciousness and fear, and every once in a while his shoulders would succumb to a shiver; she knew he was really scared himself and needed a confidant as much as she did.

“Darling…” she begun, but her own hands were shaking and the voice cracked, betraying her. She reached for his hand and pressed it between her palms; they were ice cold and he let out a gasp at the touch. “Raoul, the truth is, I really am terrified!” she decided to speak quickly and truthfully; the only thing she could have done to worsen the situation was lying to her lover. The force of her words surprised the young man and he opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off: “I am afraid of him, Raoul, do you understand this? The thought of his face, so close to me, the memory his breath on my cheek, they _horrify_ me! I don’t know if I could bear that sight anymore! But I-”

The confession breathed courage into the viscount. He pressed his lover’s hand to his heart and spoke solemnly:

“Then there is nothing more to talk about. Tell me where he lives and I will go there and _kill_ him! He frightens you beyond belief and I cannot stand it! This man, this _creature_ , is obviously dangerous and if death really is the only way to stop him, let it be on my head.”

Christine’s face turned white at the sound of his words. She forced her hand out of Raoul’s grip and glared at him.

“That you will not do! Are you insane? I will not let you, I will keep you here by force if I have to, but I will not let you go to him!”

“Is it because you don’t want _me_ to die or because you don’t want _him_ to die?”

She looked at him dumbfounded for a second. Her hand found a small pillow at the end of the sofa and threw it in his direction.

“How could you ask me such a question? Is wanting to keep alive people I care about such a crime?”

“So you do care about him! You care about him still?”

His voice was mellow this time and a faint veil of sadness fell over his eyes. Christine looked at him with compassion, as if he was injured, painfully aware of the storm in her heart.

“It’s complicated, darling. I guess I do somewhat. He is, after all, the one who inspired me to sing again and there is so much sadness in his world… Don’t blame me for pitying him.”

Raoul rubbed his knuckles on her arm, in the smallest reassuring gesture he could think of. Christine continued: “It’s true I don’t want him to die. But it is also true that it would _kill_ me to know you got hurt because of him. My pity will not be enough if any harm should come to you.”

Speaking the words out loud made her suddenly aware of the situation and she succumbed to a fit of desperation. She grabbed Raoul by the shoulders and held him with an incredible force.

“You have to promise me you won’t go anywhere! I need to have you here, I need to know you’re safe! I can’t hide you anymore, he knows what you look like and he knows how much you love me; if he finds you, he won’t hesitate to kill you, that’s for sure! I’ll be fine, he won’t hurt _me_. I know I said so, but he won’t hurt me, no, he wants me alive and well… But you, you stand no chance!”

There were tears in her eyes. Raoul was taken aback and kept a puzzled gaze on her, speechless.

“Promise me!” she yelled again, shaking him.

Her fear was rubbing off on him as well. His fingers found their way towards her cheeks and stroked them lovingly.

“I promise! I promise, Christine. I promise I won’t go anywhere.”

She let him go with a sigh. His words calmed her down almost instantly and she took refuge on the other side of the sofa.

“Good.” Her face contorted into a frown. Now that one thing was settled, the forgotten anxiety caused by the upcoming performance was once again poking at her heart. Her fingers tangled between his and they sighed in unison.

A hard silence fell afterwards. Raoul knew he had better leave her alone with her thoughts, but whenever he’d look for words to announce his departure, he was at a loss. He tried thinking of an apology, but how could he apologize for something he was about to go through with anyway? Christine kept both of her hands locked on his palm and the gesture was both comforting and saving. He found refuge in the thought that he should not disturb her pondering and wait for her to speak first.

Christine listened to her poor fiancé breathing harshly next to her. A small part of her was seeking revenge for the way she’d been treated and took pleasure in his disturbed state. He deserved to feel guilty and uncomfortable, but maybe not for so long. She knew he meant well and seeing him rush to her dressing room in such distress assured her of the fact. She looked at the slender fingers she was holding onto and rubbed her thumb on his skin. The punishment, if she could call it that, had lasted enough.

“Raoul… you can kiss me if you want.”

She felt him move in surprise, but did not turn her head. Let him do the work. Raoul reached for her chin and grasped it with a wavering hand, then pressed his lips against the cheek he could reach from his spot. Christine’s eyes, closed in expectance, came open at once and a luminous smile rose on her face. When she lifted her gaze towards the boy, her eyebrows were raised in a soft expression. She patted his cheek lovingly, while he watched her with a confused look in his eyes.

“I meant on the lips, silly.”

Raoul murmured a soft “ah” that only managed to emphasize his embarrassement; he squeezed his eyes for a second, turning his face away from Christine and tried an uncomfortable giggle. Christine looked at him both pitiful and amused, then scooted closer.

“Come here,” she whispered, running her thumb on his cheekbone.

He leaned in and met her lips halfway; his kiss was so gentle and careful, Christine couldn’t believe that merely one hour ago he was ready to throw her at the wolves. There was a shyness in his movements that she hadn’t seen since their first kiss on the rooftop and something between the fear of breaking her and the bashfulness of a child who’d just been scolded. They came apart and she draped her arms around his neck with a deep sigh, dragging him in the tightest hug she was capable of. She nestled her chin in the curve of her elbow and felt the weight of Raoul’s head laying on her shoulder. He reciprocated the embrace and whispered a resolute “I don’t know what to do, Christine” in a small voice that made the young woman’s heart constrict.

“Fortunately, I do,” she replied.

Raoul gasped and made a move to extract himself from the embrace, but she didn’t let him, so he settled to rub reassuring hands on her back and spoke in a suddenly animated tone:

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, Christine! I’ll have men guarding every door and standing backstage and I’ll be there with you, every step of the way! I will not let him take you, Christine, I promise! I am not going to leave you alone, not even for a second! You are never going to be alone again…”

Christine squeezed her eyelids together to repress the tears; she wanted to scream. _You can’t protect me, Raoul, don’t promise me this! You don’t know! He’s a demon!_ But part of her was happy that at least he gave up the plan of hunting down the opera ghost on his own. She felt soft lips pressing behind her ear and, as if the touch pressed a trigger, a pleasant warmth spread from that tiny spot through every centimeter of her body. If only she could spend her entire life in that safe haven…

“Would you walk me home tonight?”

Raoul broke the embrace, enthusiastic at the opportunity.

“Shouldn’t I better order a carriage? I don’t want you to catch a cold!”

_What a sweetheart._

“No… I would much rather walk. I want to feel the evening air in my hair and I want to be alone with you for a while, away from this place. Just for fun,” she added when his eyebrows curved in concern.

○○○

It felt good to lean on his arm, Christine thought to herself, as they exited the opera house. At the late hour, in the middle of Paris, people were far too busy with their own troubles to pay attention to the identity of the pair. The walked in blissful silence, only interrupted by the young woman’s excited exclamations: “Look how small that dog is, Raoul!” and “Look how extraordinary that woman’s hat is!” and “Isn’t the moon just beautiful tonight, Raoul?” There were phrases that did not demand an answer, words coming from the desperate need for a simple kind of happiness. Raoul smiled at the dog and at the hat and at the moon, drawing his own strength from his lover’s childish joy. They both needed to feel young for a little while and to allow themselves the pleasure of being engaged.

“Raoul… this is it.”

He had abandoned himself to a mechanical walk, day-dreaming, and didn’t even notice he was about to pass Christine’s building. He stopped in front of her, with a silly smile plastered on his face. She had let go of his arm, but none of them was ready to move in opposite directions quite yet. In an attempted farewell, Raoul bent down to kiss her hand, a very ceremonious gesture, worth of every politeness rule and good manners book. She couldn’t repress a sigh; the gesture only reminded her of how unusual their relationship was. In a sudden rush of emotion, she took both of Raoul’s hands in hers and pressed them to her heart. The boy looked around frantically, concerned about curious glances and Christine had to fight hard the impulse to giggle.

“Do you know how much I love you, Raoul?”

He remained silent and, for a moment, Christine feared it might be his only answer. As for Raoul, it was the first time since they’d known each other that he seriously considered lying to her.

“I don’t know… Sometimes it’s not that easy to tell,” he whispered, thankful for the darkness which hid well his shameful blushing.

“Oh darling…”

“But it’s probably my fault, anyway.”

“Don’t be silly. How can it be _your_ fault, if I’m the one who’s terrible at saying the words? _I love you_. I really do and I need you to keep this in mind, no matter what happens next, all right?”

His fingers fastened on hers and squeezed gently.

“I will.” A pause and then Christine’s voice came again, more cheerful this time:

“Listen, Raoul. Rehearsals for the opera start tomorrow morning. I will be there the whole day, but afterwards I want go to Perros, to visit my father’s grave. I want to pray alone for a while… for inspiration, you might say. But I wouldn’t mind to meet you there the following evening. I wouldn’t mind at all,” she added, with a meaningful gesture of her eyebrows.

“Then I will make sure to be there,” he replied enthusiastically. “And for now, mademoiselle, I’m afraid it’s time to say good night.”

What followed happened quickly, so quickly that Raoul did not have time asses the facts until after the moment passed. He took his farewell with a bow, but right as he was turning around to leave, he heard Christine shout a “Wait!” before grabbing his arm. His entire face turned fiery red when she pulled him towards her and planted a kiss on his cheek, right there, in plain sight. But just as he couldn’t deny his utter embarrassment caused by her bold gesture, he also couldn’t deny how glad he was that she didn’t give him time to protest.

 

 


End file.
